


Yard Sale

by PromptBomb



Series: Mini Prompt Fics [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 01:16:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10205609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PromptBomb/pseuds/PromptBomb
Summary: The Vagabond would never steal from some little old ladies.





	

Of all the labels given to Ryan during his tenure with the Crew one thing was always true; he was a professional. Amidst the gunfire and explosions and the reoccurring grief he gifted his boss the often silent vagabond kept himself to a certain code of conduct while on the job. Murder and mayhem- that was always part of the game, but even he had his limits when it came to the targets of their high stake escapades. Luckily, he rarely had to chastise the others in the group for crossing those lines and yet times did sometime arise that he was obligated to enforce them. 

Ryan shook his head in irritation; his chest heaved an exasperated sigh as he crossed the grease stained driveway towards one of several tables that dotted a finely manicured lawn. With no mask and no war paint he moved through the sparse crowd discreetly, a luxury he often took for granted, but one he welcomed with a soft smile and a curt nod of the head towards one of the two elderly ladies tending to a customer at their small yard sale. She smiled kindly in return and Ryan could only imagine that they must have had a good turnout throughout the day, something that had not been lost on the man who he now approached.

The man grunted as Ryan bumped into him, letting his presence be known. “You got a-“ the man began and then paused when he found himself cast in Ryan’s shadow.

Ryan was not one for small talk, so his words came quick and to the point. “Don’t move. Don’t make a fucking noise.” His tempered voice was cool, near a whisper and the man, baffled into silence, followed Ryan’s hand as it came to pull back his jacket, revealing the pistol sheathed against his solid frame. “Now, I don’t believe either one of us want to make a scene, so I’m going to ask you once, politely, to return the money box you just lifted from these nice ladies.”

“You’re crazy…” the man squeaked, the color draining from his face.

“I get that a lot.”

The man shifted his gaze about and Ryan could almost guess the skitter of his thoughts as he looked from person to person that lingered on the lawn. Defiantly, he smiled, and nodded towards the small crowd, “You won’t do nothing. You ain’t gonna do shit with all these people standing around. In this neighborhood the cops would be on you in a minute.”

Ryan lifted a brow, his expression listless as he shrugged, “Probably. You’d still be dead though, and these nice ladies will have an interesting story to talk about at their next bridge club.” Again, the man whitened, and Ryan understood that either the tone of his voice or the narrowing of his eyes had instilled just the right amount of fear for him to fish the small, tin box from his coat and laid it again on the table. “Now, hit the streets. You come around this neighborhood again, I’ll know, and trust me when I say that I can find you.”

The man took the warning to heart and Ryan almost chuckled as he stumbled over his own feet to retreat back to the road, walking away briskly. The vagabond hummed softly, a smile lingering on his lips as his long fingers tapped the top of the tin before deftly snatching up an antique decanter. Maybe Geoff’s temper would be cool if he gave him this as penance for missing their heist. “Excuse me?” He called out to the women, earning a pair of eager smiles, “How much?”


End file.
